Mission Statement: Wake Review is a student-run online creative journal at Wake Technical Community College which seeks to provide a forum for students of all majors, as well as faculty and alumni, to express themselves through literary and artistic means, including poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and visual or audio arts. We strive to encourage the study, composition, and appreciation of literature and art found at Wake Tech Community College and in surrounding communities.

Submission Policy: Wake Review accepts submission of student work, including poetry, short fiction, screenplays, non-fiction (essays, reviews, etc.), art, photography, short films and audio files in the following categories: Poetry, Fiction, Non-fiction, Photography and Multimedia Arts. If you are interested in submitting your work to be published in the 2016 Wake Review, please visit our website for Submission Rules and Deadlines at www.tinyurl.com/wakereview.

Copyright Information: All works in this chapbook are printed by permission of the author(s)/artist(s). Copyright for content in Wake Review remains with the author or artist. Wake Review retains only the right to reproduce the works for promotion of the magazine or in subsequent printings.

Advisors:

Dean Furbish

Mandy Kelly

Elizabeth Welch

Editors:

Carey Shook, Editor in Chief

Marie Defreitas, Art

Darian Hines, Art and Photography

Erin Beason, Fiction

Bry Coulter, Non-Fiction

Michael Cervone, Poetry

Savannah Gerardi, Poetry

Staff:

Jared Elledge

Terrell Goldston

Taylor Maloch

Sarah Peterson

Jessica Rone

[165]

Jessica Craig

Lindsey Currin

Marie Defreitas

Laura Munoz

Marlene Proteau

Carlie Powell

Hummingbird

Alvarez

The Notes She Plays

Cardinalidae

Michael Jackson

Side Mountain

16000 Miles

Duality

Waiting for the Waves

First Major Pastel

Fav Drawing

10

135

69

138

97

49

153

41

84

78

116

Threa Almontaser

Erin Beason

Marie Defreitas

Christina Dietz

Saida Hussein

Carey Shook

Tara Strickland

Cheerios

Fast and Free

Train Wreck

Excerpt from Zwischen

Excerpt from The Daughter of Robin Hood

Excerpt from Sins of Their Fathers

The Year 2022

Excerpt from Never Have I Ever

The Devils Tramping Ground

72-77

11-13

130-134

68

30-40

150-152

50-61

117-124

109-113

Erin Beason

Ren Cleveland

Tina Edge

Carter Phillips

Ambrosia Sharkey

Carey Shook

Tiffany Wolf

The American Dream: Myth or Reality?

A Girl Worth Fighting For: Defending the Disney Princesses

Sugar Magnolia

Sports: Traditional and Electronic

The Art in the Argument

Its Okay to be Depressed

Its Almost Like Sharecropping: Scheduling Software and the Retail Work Force

65-67

98-108

154-161

82-83

43-48

142-146

16-25

Max Cohen

Dana Culbertson

Marie Defreitas

Wren Dyer

Brandon Edwards

Zain Goheer

Gerald Guerva

Darian Hines

Darian Hines

Brandon Lopez

Samuel Odero

Christopher Shannon

Carey Shook

Dancing on the Beach

Dried Carnation

Hong Kong Buildings

Wednesday Night Racing on the Chesapeake Bay

Rose Bush

Winter

Breathless

Neuse River Ambrotype

Bus Stop

Daily Commute

Viva la Resistance

Crying Caverns

Holy Silhouette

Kelly

Luna

Sam

Wrecked

Beauty of My Life

Untitled

The Bride

Heather & Alex

162

27

116

141

149

107

125

81

90

103

26

80

129

62

108

86

147

63

64

91

137

Athena Adams

Threa Almontaser

Lukas Ayers

Erin Beason

Jake Betancourt

Sally Bitar

Michael Cervone

Jackie Chambliss

Ren Cleveland

Wren Dyer

Savannah Gerardi

Lauren Hupp

Molly Jarman

David Kirstein

Brittany Perloff

Lauren Pierce

Carey Shook

Derek Williams

Heinrich and Elsa

Birth

Humans

For You

This Autumn House

Days

In My Little Home

I Like Green

May 15th

The Ice Girl

Pegacorn

Reminiscent of Roses

Puking Up Sunday

Inventory of Being

More than Mass

I Am Art

Talk to Me

Echoes

Boogie

For the Aware

One Winter Evening

Poker

The Happily Ever After

Honesty

The Will of a Woman

14

106

85

42

96

136

104

6

89

79

9

163-165

139-140

92-95

70-71

28

114

7-8

29

15

126

127-128

105

148

87-88

I Like GreenSally Bitar

1st Place Poetry

I never understood why

They told me green couldn't be my favorite color.It was wrong, frowned upon.They told me to pick another color.

I did, I did. I picked another one every day,But none of them made me feel the way green did.Oh, it made me feel alive.

They said: Anything, any color, please. There's yellow, there's blue. How about red?I cried, I did. I didn't like yellow, blue, or red.I wanted green. Its my favorite color.

I was born in November,With blue eyes and dark brown hair.Amongst other things, I was born with a love for green.

I love green. I do.I don't understand it; Neither do you.And you don't have to.

EchoesMolly Jarman

Poetry

Living (and dying)

is a series of never-ending

echoes.

Echoes of your mothers heart,

of your fathers mistakes,

of the people who said

we love you anyway,

and

the ones

that didnt.

Echoes of the one you are

and the ones you fear.

Of the lines you drew

and the ones you stepped over.

But child;

do not be afraid.

The Echoes will teach you

guide you

love you

and nurture you.

So be cautious to remember;

your heart is not a trauma center

your eyes are not of glass

you are not of stardust

or shame

or burdens

or pearls.

You are thousands

of friendly echoes

reminding you

of who you were

and who you are

but not always

who you will be.

Echoes do not last

but the ears will remember.

Oh God,

your ears will remember.

PegacornJackie Chambliss

Poetry

P ernicious peddlers and

E ager eggheads

G ape at wonder or steal it.

A lchemists and academics

C reate false hope and metals.

O nly the

R arest of souls and of

N obels bare witness to truth and name it.

HummingbirdJessica Craig

3rd Place Art

Fast and FreeThrea Almontaser

1st Place Fiction

Her hand is in his. Theres a restless energy inside of him. A sudden directive to move, with tempered vivacity in his soul. He follows her steps. Shadowing her in a dance as they gain speed. He looks straight ahead. She gives a lascivious grin. In a second, they explode and race the wind.

He feels his heart as he runs. Its like flying while still touching the earth. His feet splash through puddles, soaking his sneakers and pants until he feels heavy with it. He doesnt remember taking a step forward, let alone four, but hes suddenly jogging and then running.

She makes him feel six years old again. Cheeks stained with dust and scabs on his knees. He counts the rows of trees as he passes. Listen! I can count to ten! His baby brothers voice invades his mind while he runs.

Onetwo.

The branches dip low. He ducks his head beneath them when they tickle his cheek. His entire body becomes a pair of lungs heaving with luxurious breaths, enjoying the fresh impossible air.

Threefour.

He sprints so fast that he morphs into a bullet. His chest throbs more and more with each step. He knows he should stop.

Five

He has to stop but--

Six

His lungs start to sting from lack of oxygen. He turns his head a little and realizes hes let go of her hand and is ahead of her. He cant see her face. Her hair covers it in a wild tangle.

Seveneight.

Shes yelling something. Sweat runs down his eyebrows so he cant see.

Nine

As he turns around, the world spins in slow motion with him. Bangs flop sluggishly on his forehead. Drops of sweat freeze in the air. Heavy breathing the only noise he hears. Shes trying to reach out to him with her hand. He sees it double, then triple, until she looks like an eight armed Buddhist statue.

Ten!

He blinks tightly. His breath rattles before the world is back on full speed. His heart is about to stop, but he just stumbles and keeps going. Right here, right now, he is a normal boy on a normal day just running. He ambles faster than he can possibly run, breathing adrenaline instead of air. Her hand finally catches up and closes around his. Slips. Hes off and away from her. Down a trail. Past a squirrel. Around some boulders. Over dirt mounds.

He has never run so hard beforeso hard he thinks his heart will burst. Its only his legs and the sound of wind in his ears, mixing with the pounding of his pulse. And for the first time since the heart surgery, he prays. God, keep going, dont let this slow it down, dont ever let it stop. He probably looks drunk to anyone passing by, but he doesnt see anyone. Theyre all a blur. Everythings a blur. The surge of adrenaline is rising hot, searing him like a brand on flesh. The smell of thick, sugary pine makes him aware of each breath he takes. How each breath keeps him in the world for a few seconds longer. He dashes and jumps and as he does, the fabric of death thats clung to him for years begins to loosen from his shoulders and slip away into the wind. He runs free and fast.

Deep inside, he knows hes being reckless. Hell probably gain nothing. Hell probably get hurt. And more disturbingly--he doesnt really care. Because right now, hes strong and on the cusp of a new life and hes not ever going back.

Maybe its the overconfidence and feeling like God. Testing fate. Tempting it, even. But suddenly, hes clutching his sides and sucking in deep, noisy breaths. He smells wet grass, honeysuckle, and pine cones. He swallows the entire forest with each inhale. He sees the outline of a body, solid and sleek. Hears a voice shouting at him from a distance, but he cant make out a single word. He cant catch the oxygen he had moments ago surrounding him. Hes dry heaving into his shirt, bent over like cursive and coughing blood when he hears voices and sees faces he doesnt recognize and oh. Im sorry. So, so sorry.

His pinky starts to twitch; the only part of him thats still moving. As if it has a separate little mind that realizes its dying, too. Saliva from his open mouth runs along his jaw. Warmth suddenly seeps onto his lips as he realizes someone is doing CPR. Its Her. She gets on her knees, folds her hands over each other like a lovers embrace, and presses down hard on his chest.

Noise like steel. Piercing screams. Call 911! Need and memory and flesh on flesh and lips and the weight of a body on his body and weightlessness and nothingness and a storm raging outside, inside. But he is still. Quiet. And then there are shocks. Jolts he barley feels. Someone yelling, Clear! and all he can think is, not again not again not again. Light rain sprinkles his head and back, plastering hair to his forehead, his shirt to his skin. He smells wet pavement and thats all there is. His lungs burn like he inhaled poison. To his constant astonishment, time doesnt stop along with his heart. His aching legs are now numb. Somewhere far away he hears a cry.

She shrieks his name. Her voice goes up a pitch. It isnt rusty and familiar anymore. I need you to open your eyes and look at me! He manages to look at her long enough to watch as a cloud passes over her face. For a moment, he sees a spark of dread and horroris that defeat?growing in her eyes. He remembers someone telling him, Death dont wait for when your body is rested and ready. It sneaks up on you when youre cold and exhausted and so scared you cant even see straight! But thats not true. Hes happy and warm and free.

His eyes roll back and his lids quiver. He convulses silently. Then that stops, too, and the last thing he feels is the warmth of her lips on his. Suddenly, everything is beautiful and nothing hurts. There is a heaviness on his chest as the world melts away with her final touch. Im dying, he thinks, this is for real. This is it. And then nothing.

When he stops moving, stops breathing, she shapeshifts into Van Goghs portrait The Scream. Her mouth opens even though she doesnt know what words shes shouting. Its pure rage and terror and horror. Something hot wraps around her like clinging tar and she thinks, its my fault. But then the pain digs deep at the body theyre carrying away. Strangers arms try to hold her back. She screams and screams and screams and screams until the universe explodes in a silent dark pop and everything shatters like glass.

Heinrich and ElsaAthena Adams

Poetry

Dear Heinrich loves his ElsaHe tells everybody soHe parades her on his armAs the people watch them goHe has a smile too fakeHis eyes always far awayAnd farther he postponesThe date of the wedding dayDear Heinrich takes his seat nowTo which he looks at his brideThe room feels much smaller nowWith everyone at his sideTo Elsa he tells her dearOh Elsa, your eyes delight!So shining and radiantLike stars that light up the night!Elsa, for her part, blushesDeeply, like a blooming roseTheir love an accepted factEveryone around them knowsAnd yet from the shadows nearWhispers come crawling aboutThat Heinrich is not in loveAnd wants to find a way outElsa, for her part, sees thisAnd weeps with no one to hearAbout Heinrichs cold disdain,His reluctance and his fearIt is off then, Heinrich saysAs he flees into his roomSighing with newfound reliefOf the storm that bypassed doomEverything is over now All effort, wasted in vainWith both Heinrich and ElsaNot seeing the others painDear Heinrich, dearest Elsa,In their separate ways they goThis is an accepted factThat everybody will know

For The AwareBrittany Perloff

Poetry

They say the road

Winds, like smoke

When it twirls in the nights sky

But when your hallucinogenic sight

Meets your skewed mind,

The road isnt the one

Thats winding.

But, sweet thing, you know whats crazier?

When a man tastes you and spits you out

Like some leftover tobacco.

Its then you need

Another hit.

And another.

You forget to feel

Because feelings are for the aware,

And Im so ignorant.

Or at least they like to think I am.

Look at your precious eyes, full of innocence

You dont need this world

Like it needs me

You have more to see

Than the intimate part of a man

You have more to experience than

This crystal magic

Its white and delicious

Black and evil all the same

Its the demon

I hope youll never see.

So float away little angel,

And always think of me.

Its Almost Like Sharecropping: Scheduling Software and the Retail Work ForceTiffany Wolf

Non-Fiction

Just-in-time workforce scheduling is leading to social and economic instability for lower-wage workers. Employer scheduling practices can hinder a workers ability to hold a second job, pursue additional educational opportunities, and earn adequate income to maintain themselves and their households. Scheduling software, increasingly utilized by employers to save money, requires workers to be vastly available for work shifts that fluctuate both in number of hours per shift as well as time and duration of those shifts. Not only does the software schedule workers according to staffing needs, that same software is also programmed to assign the minimum number of workers to meet anticipated consumer demand at any given time.

According to the North Carolina Department of Labor, there is no limit to the amount of hours that an employee over the age of eighteen can be required to work (North Carolina). As the Department of Labor also notes, the employer does not have to take into consideration how the work schedule will affect an employees personal life (North Carolina). Employers are not required to give rest breaks or meal breaks to their employees unless they are younger than sixteen years old, and the decision on scheduling employees for any number of hours during an employees shift rests solely and exclusively with the employer (North Carolina).

Shift preferences could easily be accommodated through the scheduling programs available today. Stephanie Luce, an Associate Professor of Labor Studies at the City University of New York (CUNY), notes that companies often have little incentive to give workers more hours or truly engage workers preferences as a priority (Luce and Fujita 25). According to a study that she authored jointly with the Retail Action Project (RAP), scheduling software has fueled the spread of just-in-time scheduling practices that adjust labor costs to daily and sometimes hourly store productivity (Luce and Fujita 25). However, unions offer a way for retail workers to have meaningful input regarding scheduling and other work issues. For example, unionized Macys associates in New York City are able to sign-up for shifts online utilizing a Flextime scheduling program, and are guaranteed hours and shifts through this scheduling practice (Luce and Fujita 25).

Schedule unpredictability is also a factor that impacts a workers ability to arrange their personal responsibilities in a way to enable them to meet work requirements. Interfering with such activities such as scheduling doctors appointments, socializing with friends, and participating in family routines, schedule unpredictability contributes to worker stress and work-family conflict (Lambert, Fugiel, and Henly 6). According to researchers at the University of Chicago, an unpredictable work schedule also means unpredictable work earnings (Lambert, Fugiel, and Henly 6). Workers in a variety of occupations are at risk of unpredictable, unstable work hours that are generally out of their control. Researchers at the University of Chicago recently found that:

Short notice, work-hour fluctuations, and lack of schedule control are widespread. Fully 41 percent [of hourly workers overall, and] 47 percent in part-time hourly jobs report that they know when they will need to work one week or less in advance On average, hours fluctuate by more than a full, conventional 8-hour day of work (and for hourly workers, pay) in the course of a month. (Lambert, Fugiel, and Henly 18)

In 2011, a survey of 436 employees at retailers in New York City found that the number of full and part-time workers were roughly equivalent, and of those part-time workers, only ten percent had a set schedule from week to week (Luce and Fujita 12). For the majority of stores investigated, however, at least eighty percent of the hours remained the same every week (Luce, Hamad, and Sipe 18). Nevertheless, Katherine Lugar, executive vice president of the Retail Industry Leaders Association, defends the retail industrys scheduling practices, stating that the industrys scheduling practices [work] well and retailers [do] their best to accommodate employee needs. Happy employees provide better service (Greenhouse).

Employees with less availability are typically assigned fewer hours; this is true for both full-time and part-time employees. Luce, Hammad, and Sipe write that:

Many retailers mandate open availability, meaning they expect the employee to be available any day and any time, but often do not schedule workers within their stated availability, or do not take advantage of their availability to give them full-time hours. Instead, they schedule workers for part-time erratic shifts. (7)

Workers who are hired as full-time workers are not guaranteed to remain at full-time status. Employees who have scheduling conflicts for any number of reasons are generally given a choice: make their availability completely open and remain at full-time status, or change their availability and drop their status to part-time, thereby guaranteeing that they will be scheduled for fewer hours in the future. Lonnie Golden, a professor of economics and labor-employment relations at Penn State University, observes the following:

For virtually all occupations, there is considerably greater schedule flexibility among part-timers. This suggests that part-time jobs have less rigid starting and ending times, and that workers seeking schedule flexibility often resort to taking part-time positions to improve their chances of getting flexible schedules, despite its often lower status and compensation. (44)

There has been a significant shift in the percentage of full-time to part-time retail positions during the last two decades. Many major retailers went from a quotient of seventy to eighty percent full-time to at least seventy percent part-time across the industry, states Burt P. Flickinger III, managing director of the Strategic Resource Group, a retail consulting firm (Greenhouse). The number of part-time employees who would prefer to work full-time has jumped to 3.1 million, or two-and-a-half times the 2006 number, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics (Greenhouse). Workers in part-time jobs ask their employers for more hours, but instead of giving part-time workers additional hours, employers are more likely to hire additional workers instead (Luce and Fujita 14; Greenhouse). As Lambert, Haley-Lock, and Henly note, when [part-time sales associates were] asked the reasons why they did not work additional hours, fully 84.8 percent reported that it was because the store manager did not have additional hours to assign them (18). While being interviewed by the New York Times, Mr. Flickinger said that companies benefited from using part-timers, sharing the view that:

Its almost like sharecropping if you have a lot of farmers with small plots of land, they work very hard to produce in that limited amount of land Many part-time workers feel a real competition to work hard during their limited hours because they want to impress managers to give them more hours. (Greenhouse)

The 2012 joint CUNY/RAP survey found that some managers [used] the scheduling of hours as an incentive to increase the pace of selling by sales associates, rewarding or disciplining workers with hours according to their sales (Luce and Fujita 14). One surveyed worker explained if you dont sell over a certain amount you wont get any hours for the coming week, and another associate at the same retailer reported we are working for an hourly wage but we fight like we are working on a commission (Luce and Fujita 14). As Luce and Fujita note in their report, hours have become the new bonus. But for retail workers living paycheck to paycheck, the difference of a few hours of work can mean getting by or falling behind (14).

After the destabilizing effects of the recent economic downturn, workers who remain employed face increasingly precarious work conditions. For example, involuntary part-time work has reached an all-time high (9.2 million) and the length of the average workweek has fallen to a record low of under 35 hours (Lambert, Haley-Lock, and Henly 16). According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics in June 2012, part-time workers in service jobs received average compensation of $10.92 for each hour worked; this represented $8.90 in wages, with a benefits package valued at an additional $2.02. Full-time workers, on the other hand, averaged an additional fifty seven percent (57%) more in compensation, which meant that workers received $17.18 for each hour worked; this represented $12.25 in wages, with a benefits package valued at an additional $4.93 (Greenhouse).

Due to the increasing amount of competition throughout the retail sector, employers are continuously looking for and analyzing ways to save money on costs to remain competitive. Margins are being squeezed due to a variety of factors, such as an increase in the number of consumers purchasing items via internet sources. According to the United States Census Bureau, e-commerce sales accounted for 6.7 percent of total retail sales during the fourth quarter of 2014 (United States 1); this represents continual growth in online business, as the number increases at a rate of approximately fifteen percent each quarter and shows few signs of slowing (United States 2). Big-box retailers with extended hours, a majority part-time work force with no benefits, and low prices also impact the price of goods throughout the retail sector.

Scheduling software assists employers in trimming their labor costs, treating workers as commodities. Many managers view workers the same way. Nicole Rosser, a district manager for Jamba Juice, explains:

You dont want to work your team members for eight-hour shifts By the time they get to the second half of their shift, they dont have the same energy and enthusiasm. We like to schedule people around four- to five-hour shifts so you can get the best out of them during that time. (Greenhouse)

If workers are being scheduled for four to five hours at a time, then by definition those employees would be considered part-time. This helps employers keep labor costs to a minimum, as those workers are ineligible for employer-paid benefits.

The software keeps tabs on when workers are available, their skills and who makes the most sales per hour. While such software is a powerful tool, managements judgment is still important, says Aron J. Ain, the chief executive of Kronos (a scheduling software company) (Greenhouse). Karen Luey, the chief financial officer for Jamba Juice, claims that the scheduling software helped [them] take 400, 500 basis points out of [their] labor costs, or [between] four to five percentage points, which represented millions of dollars of savings (Greenhouse). Discussing his organizations experiences during the implementation of computerized scheduling, Eric Bass, Senior Vice President of Store Operations at Belk Department Stores, states:

We saw about an eighty basis point improvement in sales [between stores that had rolled out the computerized scheduling versus the control group] For example if the control group was running up two percent to last year [the rolled out stores] were running up 2.8 percent to the previous year. When you start talking close to a hundred basis point lift in sales on a four billion dollar organization, thats real money going to the bank Weve [also] been able to reduce payroll savings by about five million dollars a year [sic]. (Reflexis Systems)

As employers are quick to note, saving money is a positive benefit. Using the numbers that Eric Bass provides, Belk Department stores saved $32 million dollars just through implementation of computerized scheduling; utilizing Reflexis had a big impact in [their] organization, which was multifaceted: everything from service, sales, associate engagement, [and] management on the sales floor (Reflexis Systems). Bass continues, stating that his organization has seen a huge improvement in analytics and understanding how are we spending our payroll dollars, and asking how can we optimize that spend, and how can we get traffic on the floor when the customer is there? (Reflexis Systems). While scheduling practices utilizing computerized programs appear to benefit the employers bottom line, more research is needed whether it is a sound business practice long-term (Luce, Hammad, and Sipe 22).

Little attention is paid to the impact on the worker in these scenarios. Carrie Gleason, executive director of the Retail Action Project, says her organization [sees] more and more that the burden of market fluctuation is being shifted onto the workers, as opposed to the companies absorbing it themselves (Greenhouse). A recent poll of economists (including Nobel Laureates and other noted persons) suggests that a plurality of mainstream economists has accepted the proposition that a decade of technological advancement has made the median worker no better off, and possibly worse off (Autor 6). Workers, under pressure from employers to be flexible for work shifts that may or may not appear, are finding it difficult to advance economically by attending school or gaining additional employment. Flexibility is more for the employers benefit, not the employees. Employers need to recognize this, and make changes accordingly. Many times, workers find it a challenge to remain economically stable and look to government and private assistance to make ends meet, which has a societal cost attached. As Naoki Fujita, coauthor of the 2012 CUNY/RAP report quoted in the New York Times, noted in his response to that article:

Underemployment is keeping the U.S. economy from gaining steam and makes it impossible for workers to enter the middle class [There are retailers that have] systematically fired [full-time] workers and replaced these jobs with no benefit and no commission [part-time] slots. (Greenhouse)

In order to build the current economy, ways to improve jobs in the retail sector need to be discussed and implemented by all stakeholders involved. Those ways may include union representation and collective bargaining, legislative action, and employer action to guarantee labor standards for retail workers. Creating a culture of ambivalence by erecting barriers to sustainable hours and wages leaves workers feeling under-valued. Sadly, it does not seem at the current time as though a positive solution for the worker will be achieved unless and until labor unions are implemented to advocate for those workers.

Works Cited

Autor, David H. Polanyis Paradox and the Shape of Employment Growth. Paper presented at

Re-Evaluating Labor Market Dynamics: Proceedings of the Federal Reserve Bank of

Kansas Citys economic policy symposium, Jackson Hole, Wyoming, 21-23 August 2014. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Abdul Latif Jameel Poverty Action Lab, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 2014. 1-46. Web. 24 Feb. 2015.

Golden, Lonnie. The Flexibility Gap: Employer Access to Flexibility in Work Schedules.

Flexibility in Workplaces: Effects on Workers, Work Environment and the Unions. Ed. Isik Urla Zeytinoglu. Geneva: International Industrial Relations Association, 2005. 38-56. Web. 24 Feb. 2015.

Greenhouse, Steven. A Part-Time Life, as Hours Shrink and Shift. New York Times. 27 Oct.

2012: n.pag. newyorktimes.com. New York Times. Web. 12 Feb. 2015.

Lambert, Susan J., Peter J. Fugiel, and Julia R. Henly. "Precarious Work Situations among Early

Career Employees in the U.S.: A National Snapshot." School of Social Service Administration, University of Chicago. Chicago: U. of Chicago, 27 Aug. 2014. 1-22. Web. 12 Feb. 2015.

Lambert, Susan J., Anna Haley-Lock, and Julia R. Henly. Work Schedule Flexibility in Hourly

Jobs: Unanticipated Consequences and Promising Directions. School of Social Service Administration, University of Chicago. Chicago: U. of Chicago, June 2010. 1-40. Web. 26 Feb. 2015.

Luce, Stephanie, Naoki Fujita. Discounted Jobs: How Retailers Sell Workers Short. Rep.

Murphy Institute, City University of New York and the Retail Action Project, Mar. 2012.

1-30. Web. 13 Feb. 2015.

Luce, Stephanie, Sasha Hammad, and Darrah Sipe. Short-Shifted. Rep. Murphy Institute, City

University of New York and the Retail Action Project, Sept. 2014. 1-25. Web. 25 Feb. 2015.

North Carolina. Hours Worked and Mandatory Overtime. nclabor.com. North Carolina

Department of Labor. Web. 20 Feb. 2015.

Reflexis Systems. A Closer Look at Belks ROI with Reflexis. Online video clip. YouTube.

YouTube, 3 Nov. 2014. Web. 22 Jan. 2015.

United States; Dept. of Commerce; Census Bureau. U.S. Census Bureau News: Quarterly

Retail E-Commerce Sales 4th Quarter 2015. census.gov. United States Dept. of

Commerce, 17 Feb. 2015. 1-3. Web. 1 Mar. 2015.

Viva la ResistanceGerald Guerva

Photography

Dried CarnationMax Cohen

Photography

I Am ArtLauren Hupp

Poetry

I am nothing.

Nothing more than

Simple fabric

To be crafted and sewn up

Just as they wish.

I am something.

Something to learn from,

Something that has wisdom

That no one listens to,

No one hears.

I am an incomplete project.

The work in progress

That knows theyll never finish

Before theyre done with me.

I am art.

BoogieDavid Kirstein

Poetry

Sky-sequins spun, emulating lights uponBleak bodies the belongings of our wallflowers

Wasting away in the moonlit boom;

We had no rock without that midnight savior.

A towering, technologic table turner

A sound-shifter who would have the vinyl verdict

A vestige of funk itself;

That man of greater records spoke:

Blossoms of the corners come out,

Tonight, it is safe to dance, so let yourself go!

With these words came splashing sounds of freedom

Fresh alleviation to an awkward nation

We were in no cowards haven now.

Guys and gals were groovin and grindin

Glidin and slidin to the funk-frogs croak, And from our fros to our toes,

Our mix masters soul-river flowed,

Empowering celebration,

And our universal joy,

Our single electric happiness

Boogie.

Excerpt from The Daughter of Robin Hood (Book One)Christina Dietz

Fiction

Most souls who approached The Foggiest Forest immediately turned back due to the dense fog that shrouded the depths of the forest from peering eyes. The Foggiest Forest was so named because of the fog that never lifted. It constantly swirled around the tree tops and forest ground. Because of the fog, no adventurer in the world had been able to chart a map.

Except us.

We had started as four friends, abandoning the troubles that plagued us, abandoning the parents that contained us in lives we couldnt bear. We ran away, four friends, looking to make names for ourselves. We stole for ourselves, unlike the outlaws that had come before uswhat we stole was ours, and we were the greatest thieves because of our wealth, but the worst people in the eyes of the authorities and our parentsespecially mine.

The only place we were safe to call home was this forest and the cabin we had found hidden the heart of this great forest. We knew we were safe as soon as we entered the borders, for at one edge of the forest there was a cliff that fell off into a roaring river far below, and in the other directions there were fields that would take our enemies into other kingdoms where they had no authority. We were enemies with all but few, and I knew by now that every king and queen in the Twelve Kingdoms had the same outcome for us. If they were all allies against us, then it wasnt much protection, but it was enough, for they knew the risks of entering this forest as much as we had when we were young and scared enough to be reckless.

We had to be careful now. We were wanted in all of the kingdoms except one, and the authorities knew we targeted the rich lords and noblemen and they knew our methods. Not only that, but they had someone chasing me down that knew me better than anyone, and I was glad for it. If the man who had raised me didnt know me better than the soldiers hunting me down, I would be truly disappointed.

Not only that, but there were more than one times where we had barely scraped our swords out of an escape. We had had more than one instance where we had nearly been captured and though we had not failed all but once, we were lucky to still have our lives. But the times that I had nearly lost the people I cautiously called my friends, those were the times that haunted me at night.

The cabin that we called our home had room for all of us, but while it was still warm at night, I ordered my band of thieves to sleep outside with hopes that they wouldnt hear my screams.

We had returned that morning from a heist. I stood, recalling the first time we had attempted a theft, and failed because I froze and we had nearly been caughtI also recalled the time that I saw my friends nearly get killed. This was before the kill on sight order had been burned, like we should have been long ago, and they had been cornered, but I stood, watching, from the rooftop above them. I was too scared to join them, but a door opened into the house whose roof I had stood on, and they escaped, and I followed. But that was the day that they had nearly been killed, and I promised them that they wouldnt find themselves in that position again. The kill-on-sight order had been burned the following day, but not even the most honest of my thieves had told me exactly what had happened.

Our failure and their near-death experiences had been my fault. Both times, I had been a coward, and as I stood by the creek, brushing the dust of a good days thieving off of my grayish-black horses back, I tried not to remember these old haunts that plagued my nightmares. I knew I woke screaming at night, fearing the day the thieves that were, for some odd reason, still loyal to me, discovered that I was nothing but a coward leading them into their deaths for my own gain.

When my old friend, Larkin Honeycutt came over and draped his arms across my horses back, I jumped back. He stood on the other side of my horse. Montague was used to this treatment by Larkin, and he was content to stand still while Larkin leaned against him, his chin on Montagues back.

Larkin ran his dust-covered fingers through his brown hair. In the sunlight, I saw shades of red in his hair that caused it to be the color of red leaves in autumn. He wouldnt meet my eyes, but he stared at the creek nearby. His eyes were a mirror of the creeks silvery blue water. In the winter, his gray eyes made him look cold, and at times I believed that his heart was an icicle hanging from the roof, but then there were times where he would sit in silence as the fire burned down, and I felt that he was as warm as the fire. These warm times were few and far between. We had only been thieves for three years, but those three years had hardened him.

When his eyes snapped until they were aligned with mine, I stepped back. I knew what was coming. Besides Liam and Oliver, he was the only one brave enough to address my recklessness and chastise me for it.

We almost failed, Lee. This hasnt happened to us since our first heist. It was your fault this time just as it was that time. He pointed his forefinger when he accused me of this. Though it was true, to him it was only an accusation. What happened? he demanded.

I looked over my horse. He was clean. I had brushed off all of the dirt I could see, so I put the brush in a wooden box and led him over to the shelter we had built for the horses. There were ten stalls, but as there were only eight of us, there were only eight horsesif you could call the little one at the very end a horse. It was smaller than the rest and belonged to the street urchin the Spaniard had brought home from a heist. I didnt trust her, and I no longer trusted him for bringing home the stray.

We escaped, I said, without turning to face Larkin as I closed the stall door behind my horse. Thanks to Sweeney.

Larkin grabbed my arms and turned me to face him. Lowvaines guards knew we were there, Lee. That was why we left with only half of our prize.

I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him away. Unhand me!

He held his hands up, but he stepped closer, and I stood as tall as I could. He put his face in front of mine and demanded, Why were they not right behind us?

The men we were stealing from served our heads to them on a silver platter, and if it werent for Sweeneys habits, we wouldnt have known and we surely would have been captured. Why were we not? I asked. I knew it was what he had asked me, but I knew if I gave the question to him in return, he would calm down. He wanted me to be angry, and now that I was, he was satisfied, and just as I predicted, he stepped back and leaned against the wall between Montagues stall and Larkins horses stall.

I wanted to yell, to scream, to shout, but I couldnt. I was angry at myself. If it had been anyone elses fault, I would have taken out my wrath on them, but it was my own fault. My anger had now resurfaced, but this anger wasnt only the result of the failure, but why we had almost failed. Larkin didnt know anything of that.

Larkin looked down as he picked his nails with his knife. I dont know, Lee. He was calm now. It wasnt fair that he could handle this so calmly. He picked his nails meticulously, but he stood there nonchalantly, as if he was yelled at every day and it was nothing to worry about. What happened? You swore to us that you would never be the reason we almost got captured.

I turned to my horse and watched as he took mouthfuls of hay from the trough. My father happened.

Larkins knife dropped from his hands and met the floor with a clang. He was there? he breathed. Your father was there in Lowvaine?

Yes, I said. There wasnt any need for him to be surprised. We had this occasional, yet rare, visit from my father. We were hard people to find, even for him. I knew my father was wherever we were, but he rarely ever came to me in person. He knew he would only receive wrath from me. I saw him through the window of the inn as we were leaving. I think he was the reason the guards didnt come after us.

Larkin bent down and picked up his knife. Your father follows us everywhere. It isnt unusual to see him, but for him to come to you in person when he knows how youll respondhe usually only does that once every two months or so, because he thinks youll have had time to change.

But I never do. I muttered, watching his knife flip through the air. He had developed the habit in the first few months of our thievery. He only did it when he was nervous. Nervousness was a rare emotion for him. The only emotion he ever displayed was anger.

He looked up at me, eyebrow raised. You were inside of the inn. I saw you from the window.

I sighed. He was the only person who could catch me in a lie. He knew memy strengths, my weaknesses, my secretsI could never decide how I felt about that. I wasnt sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that he knew more about me than he shouldhe knew me almost as well as my father, and my father and I were strangers to one another now.

Larkin smirked. What did he say to you?

There wasnt time to talk, I muttered. But he tried to tell me something I put my hand to my forehead and looked down, trying to remember. When I had, I looked up with a furrowed brow. He told me there was something urgent that he wanted to tell me, and he was begging me to listen, but I told him I had to leave.

Larkin gathered a breath to speak, but he looked down without saying a word. I knew he wanted to say his name, the greatest thief of the ages name. I knew he didnt want to bring up how I was the long lost daughter of the age. Part of me wanted him to bring it up. Part of me was proud of being the long lost daughter that Robin Hood desperately wanted back in his arms. The other part of me hated how badly he wanted me to come home. Some part of me wanted to punch Larkin if he brought it up.

We began walking back to the creek where I had left my saddle, Montagues blanket and bridle, and my saddle bags.

Well, Lee, he said. You know what Im thinking.

I lifted all of my belongings from the ground and threw them into Larkins arms. He took them without protest.

Unfortunately. I replied.

That was the thing with him. We had known each other ever since we were children growing up together in Locksley. We always knew what the other was thinking. I rather enjoyed not having to say a word to him, but I knew that if we were on different sides of things, it would be a disaster for whoever was on the wrong side.

Robin Hood wants you home. Larkin said quietly, even though it was unnecessary. I already knew what he was thinking. I didnt need to be reminded of the thing my father wanted most though he knew it would never happen.

He didnt seem very desperate for my return when we first ran away. I said, glaring at the ground as I walked away from him.

We came straight to The Foggiest Forest. We had spent six months charting it. It would take him six years. Larkin said.

I didnt like how arrogantly he said that, but Larkin had a tendency to be arrogant. We were excellent thieves. We had learned from our failures and it never happened again. It had been three years and our success rate had soared sky high, while our failure rate had plummeted to the ground. My father could have easily created a map of The Foggiest Forest, but he was too busy with his life to bother making others lives easier. Well, I shouldnt necessarily have said that. Hes Robin Hoodsteal from the rich, give to the poor. But that wasnt him anymore.

You look bitter, Larkin said while we walked to the tack shed. Youre probably thinking about how he no longer steals from the rich to give to the poor.

How did you guess? I muttered under my breath, giving him a sideways glance as we walked to the tack shed outside of the stable.

When you look bitter, youre thinking about how he was busy, and it always ends in how you think he was selfish while you were at home, making his life easier unlike yours, and then you contradict yourself because youre guilty for thinking it. So you tell yourself hes Robin Hood, he stole from the rich to give to the poor, but thats not what he does anymore. Larkin explained.

What a clever, rehearsed assumption. I almost wished he didnt know me so well.

You know me too well.

Ive been the only one you can talk to for three years, Lee. Well, besides the twins, but theyre more concerned about who was born first. Larkin said.

I snorted. Yes, they both think they were born first when it was really Liam.

But how do you know, Lee? Larkin said, doing a perfect imitation of Olivers voice. Were you there?

When that argument broke out, Oliver always demanded to know if the person that said it was Liam was there to see it with their own eyes. Of course they werent. It annoyed me, especially, because I was a year younger than the twins. Of course I wasnt there. I hadnt even been born yet.

No, indeed I was not and I never would have been even if I could have been. I replied.

You dont plan on getting married and having kids, do you? Larkin asked quietly.

I glared at him. I wondered, for a moment, if he was still imitating Oliver, but then I realized he was serious. No, of course not! I exclaimed, more annoyed than I was before. I looked down. After all that Ive done, no man would marry me.

There was a long silence. I kept walking, but realized Larkin was no longer by my side. I looked back to watch him adjust the pile of equipment in his hands and scurry to catch up to me.

What were we saying?

I was glad he wanted to change the topic. Yes, you were reading my thoughts.

Larkin shook his head. Oh, no, no, no. I simply know you too well, he said. You know, Lee, your father did a wonderful job raising you alone through the grief and pain. He had to raise you, and make sure the Twelve Kingdoms ran smoothly. After all, he was one of the founders of the Twelve Kingdoms. He had given his life to the people he helped, and then when he returned he could barely enjoy life himself. You were born and then your mother died, and he had to care for an infant child while trying to handle that his beloved wife had died, when only a year before it would have been easier for them to have gone their separate ways.

I faced him. My father was a drunk! I had turned so I said it directly in his face. It may have been a mistake on my part, for we were closer to the others and this attracted more attention than necessary, but I couldnt stand silent while he justified my fathers actions. In earlier years he had been a good man and a good father and a good leader, but a few months before I ran away, he turned to secrecy and drinking, and three years ago, through Larkins advice, I had decided that I could no longer live trying to determine why he sneaked out of the house every night to drink at the pub near our village. I left, believing that my father had become a scoundrel, though he had never hurt a single person in his drunkenness. The worst that happened was him sleeping all day to do it again the next night, and then lying to me instead of telling me the truth.

I looked down. I never raised my voicethey knew that if I raised my voice at anyone, it was because I was losing control. I was surprised I hadnt been yelling more, though. I wasnt losing control. I had already lost control.

Larkin was still as calm now as he had been moments before. He stepped back, my horses tack still securely held in his arms. I dont think you want everyone to hear our private conversation, do you?

I couldnt bear to look up at him. I only knew he had stepped back from watching his boots move. He hadnt jerked, like he was about to lose his grip on my equipment. I was aware that this happened every time we returned from a heist. I felt a heavy burden weighing down on my shoulders, one I could no longer carry, and every time we returned from being chased down by soldiers and guards of various kingdoms or after seeing my father, I lost control with Larkin. And only Larkin. He was the only one I knew would react calmly to my sudden temper.

I was ashamed of it. The same temper that I released on him was the same temper that I released on my father. Larkin knew as well as my father and everyone else that I felt, in that moment, that I was losing control on the situation we were in.

Larkin took a deep breath. I forgive you, he whispered, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Ill meet you inside.

He must have known I was thinking about something. There was a plan I had made a few months ago when the soldiers chasing us were nearly inescapable. I never thought I would take this plan seriously, but now, I realized we were no longer as safe as we thought we were. When we saw something we wanted, we approached as friends, and once we had gained our victims trust, we struck like vipers. When we struck, we took everything. There was never one shilling left to the rich scoundrels name when we were through with him. That was one of the many reasons why eleven out of the Twelve Kingdoms had bounties for all of our heads. Informally, we were wanted dead or alive. Formally, my thieves were wanted for life sentences.

Now that we had been running for three years, they were growing wiserwise enough to know how to strike back.

I wasnt quite sure which kingdoms wanted who for what. I never really kept track, but I knew some of them wanted to hang Larkin. Some wanted to take Oliver and Liam prisoners and torture them. I knew they wanted something done with me, but they never openly shared whether they wanted me imprisoned for life or executed. As far as I knew, the kingdoms respected my father too much to openly admit what they wanted to do with me.

I had committed enough crimes to know that whatever they wanted to do with me, it wouldnt be pleasant and it would most likely end in death.

After all, unless the thief escaped the life of stealing, it would always end in death, no matter whether they were captured or not.

DualityMarlene Proteau

Art

For YouLukas Ayers

Poetry

A muse will never sing this tune.

This song, unmatched, now flows through you.

Betwixt the Sun and Moon, your grace

kisses from the cosmic face.

Like air you are on drowning mouths.

Cool and calm this tincture flows

to blow the birds in summer South.

This potion does our garden grow.

Our realms entwined when blossoms sprung,

when stars so warm in Heaven hung.

Like stone we stood on schisms edge

until we fell back in this bed.

Forge we will our mithril fates,

so separate yet so hand-in-hand.

Now we sleep, for time grows late,

on oceans reach, the Earth our sand.

The Art in the ArgumentAmbrosia Sharkey

2nd Place Non-Fiction

In 1963 when Letter from Birmingham Jail was written by Martin Luther King Jr., the civil rights movement was in full swing. Segregation was still rampant, but protests, sit-ins, and the Black Nationalist movement were sweeping the nation. Martin Luther King Jr. was caught between several varying stances on the subject ranging from complacency to violent nationalism. In response to mounting pressures and criticism, he wrote Letter from Birmingham Jail to address these concerns and further persuade his audience to take action. The letter, though addressed to the eight clergymen who publically criticized him, was open for all to read, as his intended audience was everyone in all facets of the movement. This makes for the complex social situation that he accounts for in his rhetorical mode. At the same time, many of the people attacking his views did not understand the depth of the situation or historical parallels behind the civil rights movement, so he enlightens them through emotional appeal, logical proofs, and masterful rhetoric to make his letter so unanswerable (Mott 416). To make a persuading argument in his letter, King defends against or disproves completely the opposing arguments, while proving the injustice of segregation, persuading the audience to take direct non-violent action, and maintaining a tone suitable to address his widely varying audience.

In his letter, King first disproves or discredits the accusations from the eight clergymen who publically criticized him in order to establish his credibility to be a leading voice on the issue, and prove he has a right to be protesting in Birmingham. He starts by complimenting the clergymen, saying he believes they are men of genuine good will to create an inoffensive tone to keep his opposition reading (King 133). As Wesley T. Mott, a Humanities professor at Worcester Polytechnic Institute, states in his article, King creates a humble and seemingly pacifying tone as a calculated rhetorical stance that is intended to reveal the inhumanity of the clergymens position and hold it up to the scorn of those of us who are reading over their shoulders (414). To the argument that he is an outsider coming in, King mentions his organizational ties there, and how he was asked to be there, and as if that is not reason enough, says, I am here because injustice is here (133). King then proceeds into biblical references, about Apostles and aiding the Macedonians, to gain sympathy for his cause from the more- religious audience of the time. King finishes illuminating the truth with parallelism, repetition, and an air of authority in the claim, Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhereWhatever affects one directly, affects all indirectlyAnyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider anywhere within its bounds (133). All these strategies rally the emotions of the reader, force the reader understand the moral responsibility King has to spread his message, and annihilates the argument that he has no right to be protesting in Birmingham or anywhere else in the United States.

King also proves non-violent direct action is the best course for reform, to disprove the criticisms of the opposition and to build credit with the audience. The clergymen criticized Kings demonstrations, suggesting that negotiation was the better path. Using metaphors, imagery, and repetition King explains how they had tried to negotiate, time and time again, only to be denied or given empty promises. With these strategies, King also appeals to the audiences emotions to gain sympathy. He lays out the logic of how non-violent direct action leads to such tension that a society has to address the issue and negotiate to show the audience the irony of the clergymens statement, because that was exactly his goalto push the governing masses into negotiating. King uses Socrates as a reference to gain respect and to subconsciously reinforce in the audience that his point is logical. He again uses more imagery: bondage of mythsdark depths of prejudicemajestic heights of understanding and brotherhood, and parallels Socratess and his ideas to add dramatic impact, which excites the audience to agree with him in the motivational speech-like rhythm (King 135). He also refers to the historical parallels of well renowned figures fighting for a cause, like Jesus, Amos, Martin Luther, Abraham Lincoln, and Thomas Jefferson, to establish them as the precedents for direct action. King later suggests that if non-violent direct action had not become an outlet for the anger of the oppressed to be expressed that by now many streets of the South would, I am convinced, be flowing with blood (King 140). This shocking statement quickly compels the audience to realize that they much prefer the non-violent means.

King disproves the argument that they should wait and be patient because their actions are untimely or that time will help solve their problems, and he calls the audience to action through his rhetorical strategies. To the proposition of giving the new administration more time to act, King responds that they must be prodded as much as the one before, again repeating the need for pressure or tension to create change (King 135). He refers to history and Reinhold Niebuhr to enlighten the audience to the truth that freedom is never given voluntarily by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed, justifying their fight for equality (King 135). King uses logic once again to disprove the myth[s] concerning timethat there is something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills (King 139). Actually time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively, King states, and then proceeds with parallelism, repetition, figurative language, and logical reasoning to invoke the audience with guilt over the idea that it is the fault of good men who stand by that evil triumphs (King 139). Then he provides that the solution is to act now and uses the same methods to call them to action.

King uses many rhetorical strategies to emotionally manipulate and intellectually enlighten the audience into understanding their plight and sympathizing with it to persuade them to take action. To set up for the periodic sentence of abuses, he repeats the word wait for emphasis and then clarifies the hidden meaning behind the word, This Wait has almost always meant Neverjustice too long delayed is justice denied (King 135). In his famous periodic sentence that becomes a paragraph, he uses repetition, parallelism, metaphors, detailed imagery, figurative language, and emotionally charged words to list the painful abuses they endured for centuries. The extent of the tragedies is not only an appeal for sympathy from the audience, but the paralleled clauses, repetition, and long periodic sentence give a sense of build and a feeling of waiting for years, to show why waiting is not an option. As Mott points out, the metaphor that follows, of the cup of endurance overflowing, shadows the torrent of adverbial clausesliterally pour[ing] over the simple little cup of the main clause, moving us emotionally while convincing us intellectually that waiting can no longer be expected (King 419). King finishes with an understatement that delivers more punch than an exclamation, I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience (King 136). Thus, he indirectly exposes the morally gross truth of what asking them to wait implies, to keep from offending the opposition into not listening. This further helps the audience to understand the vast depths of the situation and calls them to action.

To prove the segregation laws needed to be changed and to advocate breaking those laws, King first demonstrates how they were unjust in both a moral and constitutional sense, and that one had an obligation to uphold morality even when the law failed. He repeats throughout the letter the word freedom in the place of desegregation to invoke the connection his audience feels to the American Revolution, the constitution, and the ideal America was founded on. This, and metaphors like, airtight cage of poverty, subconsciously make the audience feel the figurative physical imprisonment of inequality (King 136). King infallibly lays out a logical proof of how it is unjust in the eyes of the law and morality (King 136-37). He begins with small claims or examples that are undeniably true like there are just and unjust laws, and then he builds logical inferences from them with a Socratic-like method to guide the audience to the inevitable conclusion that segregation is unjust. As a part of this strategy, King defines what makes a law just or unjust in several different ways to build this understanding: An unjust law is a code that a numerical or power majority group compels a minority group to obey but does not make binding on itselfA law is unjust if (King 137). To prove that one has a moral obligation to break unjust laws and that he or she must also be willing to accept the consequences, he gives powerful religious and historical examples of breaking unjust laws for the greater moral good: Christians facing hungry lions, Socrates pursuing academic freedom, the Boston Tea Party. King uses Adolf Hitlers actions, as an example of unjust laws, like a shock of cold water to the face of the audienceawakening them to the truth of the paralleled moral crimes of racial violence and oppression and reminding them just how horrific unjust laws can be. King compels the audience to act through logical comparisons, powerful examples, and proving the segregation laws unjust, thus convincing them change is needed and rallying more support for the movement.

There are other arguments and points made in Kings Letter from Birmingham Jail, but ultimately the lasting impressions are the logical proofs and emotional testimonies of the need for justice and equality. It rings clear that waiting is not an option, and that it is everyones moral responsibility to act when an injustice takes place, no matter where. There is no doubt as to the enormous impact of Martin Luther King Jr. in the civil rights movement. He was one of the leading persuasive voices in the call for desegregation and racial equality that built the momentum behind changing an entire country from the inside. With his graceful, calculating, and masterful rhetoric, the talent for dissecting the truth to reveal logical or moral epiphanies, and precisely powerful expressions of emotional testimonies and language, King makes his argument unanswerable and infallible.

Works Cited

King, Martin Luther. Letter from Birmingham Jail. Wake Tech English 111 Reader. Ed. Julie Fenton-Glass, et al. Mason: Cengage, 2014. 133-45. Print.

Mott, Wesley T. Rhetoric of Martin Luther King, Jr.: Letter from Birmingham Jail. Phylon 36.4 (1975): 411-21. JSTOR. Web. 19 Nov. 2014.

Side MountainLaura Munoz

Art

The Year 2022Saida Hussein

Fiction

Evenings like these had become very rare, sitting outside under the stars in our backyard. I often wondered what was beyond just the fence. Mike, my husband, had even lit a few candles and hung lights on the porch to set a romantic mood. We were celebrating our ten-year anniversary that evening. I had cooked steakthat was Mikes favorite. Due to the cost of meat, we rarely get to eat meat nowadays. Especially not steak, but Mike had pulled some strings, so I prepared it for tonight. We saved the good stuff for special occasions only. We enjoyed our peaceful candle-lit dinner, and the steak was the most amazing steak we had ever had.

We were laughing and sharing memories of our time together in college, until I remembered that I hadn't gotten us any drinks. Mike, the gentleman as he was, offered to drive into town to get us our favorite wine, but I was hesitant to let him go. It was dangerous, going outside at a time like this. Crime was recurrent and it was getting worse. Due to the high level of crime, it was against the law to buy a house with no security system installed; it didn't matter if you had housing insurance. A security system was mandatory, like seat belts were in cars. The indigenous still lived without security systems because they couldn't afford to have them. They couldn't afford anything. Those that were lucky enough would be put in government buildings where they were assigned twenty-four hour security. Those that were not so lucky made their way on the streets.

Thinking about the indigenous made me afraid to celebrate my anniversary. I knew someone out there wanted what I had, so I never went a second taking anything for granted. I once felt what it was like to want something that someone else had, and I didnt want anyone else to ever feel that way.

Oh, come on, honey. We cant end this night without your favorite Clos Du Bois, Mike insisted. It made me giggle whenever he said Clos Du Bois because of the way he said it with a fake French accent and a smirk. When he promised he would be quick, I begged him to stay. But he wanted everything to be perfect for just one night. He wasnt going to take no for an answer, so I let him go.

Mike had been gone for nearly twenty minutes when I looked outside the window for the fifth time. He didn't bring his cell phone with him; it was too dangerous to do so. Everyones cell phones had receivers in them that were easily traceable by the common thief. If the thieves picked up traces of anyone entering the city at night, they would track them down and mug them. Initially these receivers had been installed by the government as a protection for everyone. Thats what the government told us, at least. You were tracked and traced everywhere you went with your cell phone. It began to be too much for some people. Too much that some people had learned not to keep their cell phones on them anymore.

It had been forty-five minutes since Mike had left to go get the wine. I was now annoyed and angry at him. Why did he always have to try and make everything perfect? Why couldn't he just be happy with the steak and water? Part of me was scared that something had happened to him. Anxiously, I looked outside the window again. This time I saw a van, an unusual looking, but familiar van. It was white with a sign on it saying, Safety For System. I recognized it immediately. This was the same company that had installed everyones security systems. Why were they here? I wondered. Our system was on and working. I tried to get a better look at the van. It was too dark for me to see anyone, if there was anyone. I grabbed the house phone and dialed the number for the security system watch control to see if there was a problem with our system. The phone kept dialing, and the automated system didn't seem to have a proper response for, Why is there a van outside my house?!

In frustration, I hung up. I looked outside the window again, for probably the hundredth time, and the van was still there. The lights were turned off, like someone had just left it there. I decided to turn off my lights, too. Maybe they saw me looking at them. I was pretty sure they did, but it wasnt like I could do anything about them. The automated system couldnt help me, and I was too afraid to go outside. I thought about calling the police station, but I stopped myself, remembering that there was always a cop driving around our neighborhood, checking for suspicious behavior. I decided to wait to see if he would pass by, and after a few minutes, he did. He slowed down as he got closer to the van. He knew something was wrong. The officer got out of the car and began to circle the van.

And then everything happened all at once.

It was dark in my house, and I found myself stuck by the window, staring outside in fear. I gripped the curtains, I was so terrified. The officer had finished circling the van and began to walk up the driveway to my front door. Right before the officer would have knocked, the door of the van opened swiftly. A man dressed in black with a gun ran up to the cop and shot him in the back of the head. The man proceeded to drag the officers lifeless body into the van. Another man jumped out of the van and into the patrol car and drove away. I felt like I could have thrown up. Barely thirty seconds had gone by. My mouth was hanging wide open. I thought I was screaming, but it was only in my head.

Did this really just happen?! I kept thinking. It happened so fast, it made me think I was delusional. I rushed to get my phone, but remembered the tracer on it. They, whoever they were, would immediately notice a call to the police from my phone. It was only a matter of time before they were going to get in the house. I had to come up with a plan quickly.

Thats when I saw the flashing light beaming from the car pulling up, the sound of our garage door opening. Mike! I rushed over to the window again, and the van was gone. I didnt understand. Mike came in to find me in a panic. He flipped on the lights. I couldnt get the words out fast enough to tell him what had happened, so I just stood there quietly in shock.

Honey, are you alright? he asked.

I was trying to get the words out, but I was stumbling and stuttering.

Lisa! he cried. Its not often that I have trouble finding my words. Mike knew something was going on.Whats wrong?

The van, I pushed the words out, did you see the van?

What van? What are you talking about? He looked at me with a look that made me feel like I was crazy.

Mike, there was a van outside! Two guys killed the neighborhood patrol officer! I realized I did sound crazy. A few minutes ago, I was wondering if it really did happen, but I knew I wasnt crazy. I saw what I saw.

Mike was looking at me, trying to figure out what to say without sounding like he was questioning my sanity. You saw a van outside the house? he asked.

Yes! Yes! There was a van, two guys, and they killed the officer! Did you hear me?

By the look in his eyes, he thought I had lost it. It wasnt unheard of that people were going crazy these days, delusional, claiming they saw horrific events taking place. Those people ended up in asylums.

Lisa, I heard what you said. I just want you to think about it. No one was out there when I drove up.

I took a hard look at Mike. I had been married to this guy for ten years; he knew I wasnt crazy.

Okay, I said. I just need to sit down. I took a few moments, Mike sat next to me, even put his arms around me for comfort, but I wasnt comforted at all. I didnt know what to think. What happened out there?! I kept asking myself. I sat there in his arms and absorbed my thoughts until I drifted sleep.

I found myself at nine am the next morning on the couch, the sun beaming on my face. I wiped the drool off my mouth and stood up. The events of the evening before hadnt reached my mind yet. I was walking towards the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee when I heard the garage door open and our alarm system saying, Garage door is now opened.

Mike joined me in the kitchen. He smiled and gave me a kiss on my forehead, then walked over to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. He didnt say a word, just kept looking at me with a soft smile. Then he asked, How are you?

It took me a minute to respond. Usually he greeted me with a good morning. Something about the way he asked me how I was made me remember the events of last night. They quickly shuffled through my mind. Im fine, I said and raised my cup of coffee to take a sip. How are you? I asked.

Something was off with the way Mike was behaving. I wanted to bring it up, but I knew it would be a bad idea. He wiped his hands off with the kitchen rag and threw the rag into the laundry room across from the kitchen. Ive got a lot of work to do today, he said. He looked me right in the eyes, as if I hadnt just told him that I witnessed a murder take place outside our house last night.

Mike I started to say, but he interrupted me

Lisa, look. I know you were having quite a night last night.

Mike, I need you to listen to me! I pleaded.

I just dont have time to go over this again, he replied as he walked away.

I poured the rest of my coffee down the sink. I didnt have much of an appetite for anything. When I sat down at the table, I pulled out my laptop and searched the news for any missing cops. No results showed up, so I decided to call my security system. I was put on hold, and finally a lady picked up the phone.

My name is Sandra, thank you for calling Safety For System, how can I help you?

Yes, um, my name is Lisa. Could you please check our account for any recent requests?

Sure, what is your account number? she asked.

I told Sandra our account number hesitantly, afraid of the answer.

Okay, I see that you called us yesterday for a van to be sent out. Its showing here that they reported a request to change your password. Is that correct? She asked. I stayed silent for a whileI didnt know what to say. Eventually, Sandra cleared her throat. Mrs. Afford, are you there? she asked.

Thank you, Sandra, I said nervously and hung up. Then I went straight to Mikes office, where he usually decided to bury himself in work. I didnt bother knocking on the door. When I opened the door, I saw him wiping down his gun and putting it back in the safe. He looked at me as if he expected an explanation for why I just barged into his office. Did you change the password for the security system? I asked.

Lisa he began, but I interrupted him this time.

Did you or did you not request a change for security system password?

Lisa, if you would just let me explain he said trying to calm me down. He tried to get me to sit down, but I was overwhelmed with disgust, so I walked out of his office.

What was he doing to us, our marriage our life together? We both had lost our parents, we only had each other. We tried for years to conceive a childendless nights and days on fertility drugs and treatments and getting negative results again and again. It had broken our hearts, but made us stronger as a couple. Even when we had decided on adopting, only to receive the news that it was no longer legal to adopt in our district, Mike had always been by my side. Why was this happening now? Why was I feeling like I was losing him?

Lisa, Mike said as he walked into our bedroom. I pretended like I didnt hear him come in. I just covered myself up with a blanket. I know this is difficult for you, and as much as I would like to save you from all the harm out there, I cant. I know that now he said.

What do you mean, Mike? What harm are you talking about?

I cant talk about it here, Lisa. We need to go away for a while.

We cant go away, you know that. There are laws about that.

Its not safe here!

Just tell me what is going on! Did you change the password?

No, I didnt. Come on, Lisa, you know me!

Then who did? I was starting to get angry now. Why wouldnt Mike, my own husband, tell me what was going on?!

I cant talk about it now. Its too dangerous, Mike told me.

Well, if it wasnt you who changed the password, then who was it? What about the guy who got murdered?!

Get a bag ready, and meet me in the car. We can make it out of town before the gate closes.

Are you crazy?! If they find out that we're not here, they will find us and... and

And what, Lisa? This place has us all brainwashed. We cant live like this not knowing what will happen to us if we leave our house. Once were out of here, Ill tell you everything I know. Then Mike left the room with a small bag.

I didnt know what to think. We had been abiding citizens to the New Orders for six years now. I felt like I was breaking some agreement that I had stayed committed to. Which I technically was.

I looked at the time. There were two hours and fifteen minutes before the gate closed. If we wanted any chance of getting out, it had to be now. So, I quickly grabbed a bag and threw in a few necessities and met Mike in the car. He looked at me and his eyes reassured me that he was the same ole-Mike that he had always been. The same Mike that I had met in college, who was the president of the debate club. The same Mike who graduated a year later just so he could graduate with me, and the same Mike who proposed to me at our three year anniversary on stage at our graduation with the song by Bruno Mars, I Think I Want to Marry You. It was like nothing was different.

The drive out of town was silent. Neither of us said a word. There were so many questions were going through my mind, and I could tell that Mikes only focus was to get us beyond city borders.

We arrived at the border control an hour before shutdown. Mike explained to the guards that he was sent by his job, The Ministry of Truth. He held a respectable position, and was allowed more leniency than the average citizen. Well make it back before shutdown, he nodded to the guard and drove off.

It was an hour before sunset, and as we drove out further than I had been in years, I couldnt help but notice the beauty of the mountains and trees and rivers. It reminded me of my childhood, before everything had changed. We drove by a deer. A deer! I hadnt seen a deer in years. I felt so alive! Why were we deprived of all of this life? This beauty? I rolled down the windows, even though it was a bit cold outside to feel the freshness of the wind.

Mike made a turn into a forest and some minutes down the path there was a little brick house. What is this? I asked.

Come on, Ill show you, he told me. Mike pulled up to the house and parked. After he got out of the car, he opened my door for me and as we walked up to the house, Mike started to tell me about the house. This land belonged to my parents before they passed away. They never officially left it to me, but no one really knows about this place but me and now you. He opened the door with a key that was hidden behind a loose brick on the house. As we walked in, I was hit by a strong smell. I couldnt quite recognize it. It wasnt bad, but it wasnt good either. I looked around the room. Mike turned on the lights and pulled out blankets. He told me that we wouldnt be able to start a fire because the smoke from the chimney would give away our location.

Mike, tell me whats going on. Now, I demanded. I looked at him with a serious look and thats when he told me everything.

Mike had been working for the Ministry of Truth since the New Order had taken over. They governed our entire district. In 2016, we were on the edge of World War III, although it never really happened quite the way we were made to believe. Many people fled the country, finding opportunities overseas or up north. The country known as The United States of America, separated into two sections, East and West. The West was free from most of the propaganda following the alleged World War III, and once many of the Easterners realized that their government had been lying to them, they tried to flee to the West. This became quite a problem for the leaders of the East because they were losing control of their people. If they continued to lose their citizens, they would inevitably lose their land as well, they thought. So they founded The Ministry of Truth.

Early on, Mike had secured a position with them for the skills he possessed in technology. They offered him great incentives and we needed them at the time to financially support our fertility treatments. Mike went on to tell me that during his time working for The Ministry of Truth, he ran across documents that were classified. He didnt think much of it the first time, as he thought it would be normal to for the government to have classified documents.

One day his buddy John hadnt shown up for work. He thought John was sick, so he drove by his house on the way back home from work to check up on him. When he had arrived at Johns house, an older woman in her late fifties or early sixties, opened the door, Mike introduced himself as one of Johns coworkers. The woman informed him that John had been dead for nearly twenty years John was her late husband. Mike didnt understand. He had just been at work with John a few days ago how could he have been dead for almost twenty years? It wasnt possible.

Thats what led to Mike being skeptical about his workplace. He told me that after a couple weeks, he ran across a file of medical forms related to the fertility treatment that we, along with a few other citizens, had started. That caught his attention, and he started going through file after file, discovering that people had been prescribed fake fertility drugs. In rage, he spoke to one of the coworkers about it, but the coworker told him he really had to keep his mouth shut about those things, and that if anyone had found out that he had been digging through files he could not only get fired, but they would kill him and his wife.

Thats why I didnt want to believe you about the van being outside our house last night, Lisa, he told me. It means that someone was watching me. Us. That cop wasnt coming to the house to make sure everything was okay he was there to kill us. The people in that van saved our lives.

To be continued

KellyDarian Hines

Staff Photography

Beauty of My LifeSamuel Odero

Photography

UntitledChristopher Shannon

Photography

The American Dream: Myth or Reality?Erin Beason

Staff Non-Fiction

The American Dream is perhaps one of the most idolized ideals of American life. It gives one hope for the future, for their own lives, or the lives of their children. This hope may be for a better life, a life of equality, a life of freedom to be whomever and whatever one wants, a life full of choices, or perhaps just a life of acceptance and tolerance. While this dream sounds promising, it is often just what it is: a dream.

In the essay What is the American Dream the Library of Congress compiles a few definitions of what the American dream is. The first definition listed is from James Truslow Adams book The Epic of America written in 1931. He states, It is not a dream of motor cars and high wages merely, but a dream of social order in which each man and each woman shall be able to attain to the fullest stature of which they are innately capable, and be recognized by others for what they are, regardless of the fortuitous circumstances of birth or position." Another definition listed comes from Thomas Wolfe who said of the American dream, "to every man, regardless of his birth, his shining, golden opportunity .the right to live, to work, to be himself, and to become whatever thing his manhood and his vision can combine to make him." The Library of Congress also poses the question of the Declaration of Independence being the foundation of the American Dream with the words, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness." Each of these definitions speaks of hope, prosperity and freedom. Oftentimes, it may seem as though the American dream is an attainable reality, that America is truly the land of freedom and opportunity, that it is full of self made men who started from the bottom with everyone else. This is not reality.

While a dream may be defined as a cherished aspiration, ambition, or ideal by the Oxford English Dictionary, it also defines a dream as an unrealistic or self-deluding fantasy. The latter definition would suggest that the American dream is an unrealistic fantasy that has become somewhat of a cornerstone in American thought. While dreams and fantasies often give one something to believe in, they often lead to neglect of reality, and may even act as a blind between what is ideal and what is true. In fact, the American dream was not even founded by Americans. In the article Five Myths About the American Dream, Michael F. Ford, the founding director of the Xavier Universitys Center for the Study of the American Dream, points out that the dream originates from the Western European settlers who fled Europe for the Americas in the hopes of a better life, as well as religious freedom.

The dream of a free and equal America has not yet been achieved, and may never be achieved. From the Puritans of the early Massachusetts Bay Colony, to the deplorable institution of slavery, to the Civil Rights Movement, to the push for marriage equality, and to the racial and religious based hate crimes that occur today, equality has not been achieved. While great strides have been made toward the ideal of equality, it has not yet been met. The Puritans and others who sought religious freedom burned or hung those who did not conform to their religious beliefs. Slavery is an excellent example of the hypocrisy of the American ideals of freedom and equality. Slaves were captured and sent against their will to the Americas only to be worked to death or condemned to a life of unequal treatment and cruelty. Choice was not a luxury awarded to slaves. Children born to slaves were born into slavery, and did not have the luxury to choose to be free or make successful lives of their own. Up until the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment slavery was not even a term used in the Constitution, there were instead free persons and all other persons or even persons held to the service of labor. From the start, slaves were valued as lesser persons (Tindall and Shi 272).

Perhaps some of the most disregarded victims of inequality from the beginning of the European settlement of America are the Native Americans. Native Americans have never truly been held as equals and even the small measures that have been taken to ensure equal treatment of Native Americans are no match for the damage that was done to these peoples. According to the article Destroying the Native American Cultures which is from a group of immigration articles compiled by the Library of Congress, there were once about 900,000 Native Americans who spoke roughly 300 languages, which were all but destroyed by diseases, broken treaties, violent warfare, forced removal, and forced assimilation. Not only did native peoples continually lose their home lands as well as lands promised to them, they often lost their unique cultural practices and heritage. Many were given new names, homes and a religion, which was foreign to them, thus destroying their original identities. Native Americans were not even granted citizenship until 1942 under President Calvin Coolidge (United States Citizenship for the Native Americans).

Another group that has faced a great deal of discrimination, more by de facto segregation than du jure, is women. For centuries women were and occasionally still are thought of as the weaker sex, less able and less intelligent than their male counterparts. Women were thought to be best suited to subordination to their husbands or other male family members. Many were not allowed to pursue an education, speak publicly or own property for a number of years. In the United States, women finally gained suffrage, and stronger citizenship with the passage of the Nineteenth Amendment in 1919 (Womens History in the U.S.). While great efforts have been made towards gender equality, women are still not equal.

The American Dream of equality and freedom is simply far from reaching fruition. While most discriminatory laws have been overturned and women and men of all races can be granted citizenship, centuries of cultural bias towards men, especially white men, are not going to be easily erased from society. Racism is still rampant today. Religious persecution and discrimination occurs everyday, whether by well meaning people or by hate groups. Native Americans are faced with a low socioeconomic status and are more susceptible to alcohol related issues than non Na